


Angry to Bed

by miscreant_rose



Series: Cancelled 'verse [8]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 02:46:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1923816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miscreant_rose/pseuds/miscreant_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of the "Cancelled" universe. Tumblr prompt of "A very classic prompt idea, but OMG, I need it and I want it: Modern M/M: A small misunderstanding leads to a big fight. Alas! These two really are stubborn assholes. How will they make up?" How do our newlywed M/M handle communication? Not very well. They tend to be a bit *passionate* if you know what I mean...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angry to Bed

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt from thefoodofloveismusic: "A very classic prompt idea, but OMG, I need it and I want it: Modern M/M: A small misunderstanding leads to a big fight. Alas! These two really are stubborn assholes. How will they make up? FINGERS CROSSED FOR ME!... ME!... ME, ME, ME! :-) Love you. Hugs!"
> 
> Cancelled verse M/M, we join them now as newlyweds, still learning how this whole give and take and communication in a relationship works. Apparently for them, it includes a lot of steam and sizzle.
> 
> As always, massive thanks to my sisters in smut, Lala-Kate and Cls2011. I would be lost without your support and feedback and snark!

**Angry to Bed, Angry to Rise**

Fine.

She had said it before closing her eyes, but she woke anything but. The dark of early morning pressed in on her, and his uninterrupted sleep made her seethe all the more. Padding out from the bedroom, she tried everything; tea, reading, television, stretching out on the couch, begging for at least a light doze.

It was still there, and she was not fine.

How could he? To rise to her mother's bait like that and now no matter what, they would have Cora in the middle of this already anxiety producing mess. And the idiot just didn't get it. He didn't get she could barely handle the pressure and stress of it alone; sharing it with him was testing her last ounce of reserve. But God help them, he just swung open a door for Cora Crawley to walk through and into the most intimate parts of their lives.

She hurled a pillow from the couch across the room.

Idiot. An idiot who wouldn't even apologize because "it isn't a big deal."

She glared out the bank of windows until dark gave a sigh to indigo, eventually seeping into a steel gray. Staring at the heavy ceiling of storm clouds, she decided she'd take that dare of rain on a run, and went to grab her leggings and trainers.

He could feel the anger rolling off of her as she moved silently in the bedroom for a mere minute before once more closing the door behind her. She was blowing this out of proportion and putting all the blame on him. As usual, he thought, his foul mood pushing him to the very edge of tolerance.

Stubborn, irrational, over-dramatic. He almost tossed hormonal at her last night but was saved by his last scrap of sanity. But it was so Mary, pushing him, finding every button and not letting go until he lost all rational though.

She was not fine, and he had known as she lied to him last night as they lay there, miles apart in the dark.

He had to decide if he was ready to toss out something as a truce, because he knew she sure as hell wouldn't. Maybe, for once, he would be as stubborn as she always was and wait for her to either talk rationally or crack an offer of understanding. Why did he always have to be the one? Let her work on her apology skills, if she had any.

He rolled over and tried to capture some strand of sleep that wasn't full of angry words and knots in his stomach.

The rain laughed at her challenge and made every inch of exposed skin sting with its bite as she circled the park again, dodging the deeper dips filled with water, trying to keep her balance on steep bits of slick gravel.

Earbuds blared music with a throbbing beat her stride outpaced in her stewing anger. Every vibration of her phone in its armband made her temper steam more. Stop texting, Matthew. Get the clue I'm not going to answer.

She wanted to strangle him. To grab his shoulders and shake him, to make him understand her for once. To dig her fingers into his flesh, to bruise him until he understood her bruises and felt every pinch and snipe thrown her way. To kiss him with all her rage and fury, to bite and tug and pull at him until he finally got it, finally tasted what she was so upset about, to hum against his growl until his fingers sought to slick away her hurt in every hidden place, and his thrusts into her were a hard and lasting apology.

Her pounding anger and distraction combined with another vibration of her phone and a patch of mud slick path. Feet went out from under her, skidding in different directions as she tried to catch herself before she smashed a knee open. Earbuds were pulled free and lost in the mud as she landed hard on her side, palms scrapping against gravel.

Fuck.

She sat for a second before kicking a heel in anger, mud splashing up against her face. "Fuck!" she slammed her heels and slapped her hands against the ground for every missed stride until she finally started to cry, a laugh bubbling up from deep inside.

God, she sucked at apologies. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

He wanted to fling his phone against the wall. Christ's sake Mary, just acknowledge me.

He stared at the now cold pancakes and pot of tea. His desire to throttle her was starting to be outweighed by his worry that something might actually be wrong. Or rather, more wrong than their inability to communicate. They were a mess again, and he was kicking himself for actually trying to apologize when she took off somewhere and wouldn't even answer her phone.

The sound of the lock turning made his stomach leap and he tried not to rush to the foyer. Screw that, she can enjoy some of his cold shoulder in return for once.

He managed to wait three angry breaths before admitting he sucked at resolve. Rounding the corner, he stopped dead at the sight of her, wet, bedraggled and covered in mud. She was bent over, trying to untie trainer laces that were soaked and stuck in knots. The angry greeting he had been ready to snap at her turned into a snort of laughter he failed to hide.

She shot a glare at him and turned back to her laces, shifting to turn her back to him, but instead leaving him with the perfect view of her ass and the long length of her legs.

He nearly choked. "Unless that is your attempt at an apology, it's not helping."

She tried to twist herself round to glare at him again, but lost her balance and tumbled over. She tried to bat away hands the reached down to pull her to her feet, but it was no use once his grip found her. Every defense, every barrier was rising once again, and her thoughts of an apology faded as quickly as the chill on her skin was fading against his touch.

Damn him!

He pressed her back into the wall with the length of his body, fingers catching her chin to force her to meet his gaze. Every swirl of anger, of frustration, of passion, of laughter she felt in him was echoed in that pure blue stare of his.

Everything inside her crashed together with a sigh. Damn him.

The helpless shake of her head, admitting defeat when it came to words. Instead, she buried dirty hands into his hair and pulled him down into a hot and stormy kiss that could more effectively deliver every bit of her own frustration and over-riding love than mere language alone.

He tasted of everything she lived for in this world, of every hope and promise, every stubborn moment, of rain and tea and the promise of the rough passions of love and vexation. She wouldn't exist without this, what he breathed into her, wrote against her with hands that sought more skin to warm and bring to life.

She kicked off her trainers, one foot finding balance against his calf as her other leg wrapped around his hips and she tried to crawl inside his soul.

"Just so you know, you are still an idiot." Her tongue traced over his bottom lip before she sucked it between her teeth with a rough, teasing caress.

He ground his hips harder against her. "And you are still a shrew."

"You are so lucky I like idiots," she managed to gasp out as she pulled his shirt open.

"You are lucky I would rather tease than tame a shrew." He caught her moan as he squeezed her breast, thumb teasing over her nipple.

Hands coming to grasp under her bottom, he pushed away from the wall and began to carry her to their bedroom.

"Shower," she murmured into his neck. "I don't want mud on the sheets."

"Woman, you suck at accepting apologies. I am going to get mud where I want to get it," he growled tumbling them both onto the bed.

She bit at his shoulder, finger nails raking his bare back under his shirt. "You are cleaning this up then."

He flipped the duvet over them both, cocooning them into a world of light and shadow all their own. "I'm better at laundry than you are anyway," his lips trailed down her collarbone as he pushed her shirt and sports bra up. "At least I can iron the sheets."

She pinched at the ticklish spot on his waist as she began to work the buttons on his jeans. "As if that matters anyway, idiot."

His mouth sought to warm every inch of her skin, her arms and legs seeking to share every drop of rain with him. She didn't know who was apologizing or why they even fought as hands and fingers that knew each other so well now played out an entirely different battle of wills. Everything was fine, and there was something to be said about going to bed angry.

**Author's Note:**

> Would love to know what you think! Reviews are love!


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